


Found Family

by horrorgremlin (catstuff)



Series: Once Bitten [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (it’s the title but it’s also the theme), Drug use but just weed, Found Family, Gen, M/M, Teeny tiny burn kink moment, Vampires, Very gay content, this one is mostly upbeat! It’s actually fun!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catstuff/pseuds/horrorgremlin
Summary: “So, Laurel,” Nathan says, tabbing open a can of ginger ale with a satisfyingpop. “What brings you here?”She shrugs. “Boring human stuff. Quest to find my long-lost big sister. How do you know Isaac?”Isaac and Nathan glance at each other. Something subtle and complicated crosses Isaac’s face.
Series: Once Bitten [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702981
Kudos: 2





	Found Family

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: just weed and possibly secondhand embarrassment.

_Ding-daaauuhh._

Isaac looks up from the desk in their living room, pencil poised as their hand freezes in midair. The doorbell isn’t that loud, but it hardly ever rings, so its broken tone stands out when they aren’t expecting to hear it.

They turn to the windows, which are bright with morning sun: it’s well past dawn. They lay down their pencil and go to pull the shades down, standing with practiced care to the side of each window, outside the area of direct sun exposure, until it’s safely covered. Then they toss on a sweatshirt and rattle down the narrow front staircase.

Peering through the peephole on their tiptoes, Isaac sees someone they don’t recognize: short and fat, with round rosy cheeks, a head of dust-blonde curls, and an enormous hiking backpack. Well, that’s unusual.

Isaac opens the door with a polite but wary, “Hello.”

“Hi!” the person at the door chirps in return. Everything about her appearance, voice included, bursts with youthful exuberance. She does not seem at all like a vampire. “I was just passing through and I saw your porch light was on. Do you think I could come in, clean myself up, maybe rest for a little bit?”

Normally, Isaac would say yes without further questions; requests like these are _why_ they keep their porch light on. But normally, the person asking would be some manner of undead, supernatural, or similarly removed from the resources of living society. Not a lost human hiker who looks barely out of her teens. It’s far too normal.

The calculation plays out as always. Isaac knows how to handle themselves, and one suspicious visitor isn’t going to change that, even if things go sideways. If they turn her away, and she’s _not_ just a random human, they will have lost the opportunity to discern if there’s something fishy going on. But most importantly, the risk of turning away someone who truly only needs some decent plumbing and a place to rest their eyes, especially a human barely out of childhood, isn’t something they’re willing to gamble on.

The kid notices their hesitation and adds, with a glance down at her dirt-encrusted hiking boots, “Promise I won’t make a mess. And if I do, I’ll clean it up.”

Isaac puts on a warm smile. “Don’t worry about that. The place could do with a cleaning, anyway. Come on in. I’m Isaac.”

“Sweet, thanks! I’m Laurel.” She reaches out to shake Isaac’s hand before following them inside.

As promised, she’s careful to leave her filthy boots at the top of the stairs with the rest of the shoes and brush the top layer of dirt off her clothing before joining Isaac in the apartment proper.

“Would you like something to drink?” Isaac asks her as she hefts off her backpack and takes a look around.

She unhooks a near-empty water bottle from the bag and holds it up.

“Just a sink would be great.”

Isaac is visibly bewildered as they wave her into the kitchen. They’re pondering where she’s from and how to ask if she’s been up hiking all night, but before they get a chance she looks up and notices the refrigerator.

“You keeping... your plants cold?” Laurel asks, sounding about how Isaac feels about her presence here. Well, that helps some; their fridge was not set up in mind of ever having a human stranger see it, and she’s reacting about how someone would who assumes everyone with a full-sized fridge is using it for food.

Instead, the refrigerator’s interior is filled with various sizes of potted plants: small flowers, herbs, and succulents on the bottom, with one or two of the upper shelves removed to make room for taller stalks and stems. The fridge door, swung permanently open against the wall, has trailing plants spilling all down it out of clear plastic built-in bins filled with dirt.

“It’s beautiful,” Laurel says, and Isaac’s awkward suspicion blooms into a bashful smile. She steps closer and rubs her fingers against some of the leaves, careful not to touch anything especially fragile-looking. Fondling a string of ivy and smiling gently, she asks, “You don’t eat much?”

Isaac’s slow-beating heart drops fast into their gut, but they keep their face friendly and bland.

“Not much.”

Her fingers run curiously over a pearly red cluster on a dwarf tomato plant.

“Fresh is better anyway, huh?”

Who is this girl and why is she at Isaac’s house?

“Sure,” they agree noncommittally. That and there’s another refrigerator, but they don’t need any questions about that. Their thick eyebrows pull together, masking their real worries behind a more superficial concern. “So, did you lose your group or something? Hiking group, I mean?”

Laurel sort of hums, stepping away from the fridge. Spotting a bowl of fruit on a cluttered kitchen table, she picks up an apple and shoots Isaac a pointed look. They nod; she takes a big crunchy bite, chews thoughtfully, and swallows.

“Not exactly. I’ve been traveling solo for a while now.” She takes another bite, enjoying Isaac’s struggle to figure her out — but she’s not here to savor an imagined cover story. “You _are_ a vampire, right?”

-

They sit down in the living room, which is more cluttered and disorderly than the kitchen, but also more comfortable. Now that they can talk without pretense, both are bright-eyed and eager with questions.

“So, I have an older sister,” Laurel explains, lounging sideways in an overstuffed-to-bursting armchair. “We were never like, super close or anything. But she kinda dropped out of touch after she went to college, and then all of a sudden she completely fell off the face of the earth. Our parents filed a police report, they think she was kidnapped or something. I think it’s as likely as anything else she just booked it out of town when she got a chance, but I have reason to believe there may have been vampires involved somehow. So, I’ve been trying to find her, dead or alive. Hopefully undead or alive.”

Isaac nods along as she exposits; it sounds like a speech she’s given before. “How long have you been traveling around looking for her?”

Laurel sighs, ticking off fingers as she counts back. “Three years now? Give or take?”

Isaac gets their worried look again. “That seems like a long time. You’re how old now?”

“Twenty-one.”

“I always regret asking that,” Isaac sighs.

Laurel smirks as if she expected their reaction. “And you?”

“Let’s say more than fifty and less than a hundred.”

“Is that pretty young for a vampire?”

Isaac shrugs. “Depends who you ask, or why you’re asking. Hey, how did you find this place?”

“Got a tip and an address from a rando vamp I scoped out on tinder, if you can believe that — oh, is it okay to say vamp?”

Isaac has never been asked this question before. “Sure? It’s kind of weird hearing it from someone living, but it’s not a bad word or anything, if that’s what you mean.”

Laurel nods. “It’s been hard to get any kind of read on vampire social norms, even with years of experience. I get the sense that vampires and humans don’t mix very often.”

Isaac chuckles. “No, they don’t. Not _well_ , at least.”

That’s when the doorbell chimes its ailing _ding-daauuhhh_ again, and Isaac realizes what time it is, and oh no they did not expect to have someone in the house right now. Laurel looks a little too curious for their taste, and they consider regretting opening up so quickly. But there’s nothing to do now except clamber back downstairs and let Nathan in.

He greets Isaac at the front door with a familiar hand on their cheek and a soft, “Hey. Been a while. You doing alright?”

Isaac smiles with uncharacteristic irony, raising a hand to lay on top of Nathan’s much larger, much warmer one. “Yeah, I’m okay. But uh.” 

Their smile falls. “I’ve kind of got company.”

“Aww, you didn’t forget about me, did you?” Nathan’s hand moves up to ruffle through Isaac’s overgrown thicket of curls.

“This was totally unexpected, I’m sorry. It’s kind of a weird situation. Do you want to come back another time?”

Nathan shrugs. “I don’t mind hanging around for a while. It’s the weekend.”

Isaac hadn’t realized. Their mouth pulls to the side as they mull it over. “Actually, I bet she would love to talk to you, if you’re up for an aggressive interview.”

“Who is it?” He follows them inside and pulls the front door closed. They both creak up the stairs.

“Some human kid who spends her time chasing down vampires. Not in a slayer way.”

Isaac knows exactly the piqued-interest face Nathan is making without having to look back. The two of them reach the second floor and step into the apartment.

“Laurel?” Isaac calls. “I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Nathan.”

Nathan looms behind Isaac, about three times the slight vampire’s size and maybe twice Laurel’s age. He smiles, barely rolling his eyes at Isaac’s understatement, and gives her a friendly wave. She swings her legs around and rises from the armchair.

“Are you a vampire too?” She asks, not quite unkindly.

Nathan shakes his head. “No, I’m one of you. Steady heartbeat and everything.”

He walks past Laurel and reaches down to access a minifridge she hadn’t noticed before, tucked in the corner behind the chair. His height and stature up close are more than a little bit intimidating, and she wouldn’t admit it, but she’s glad he’s not a vampire too. He crosses the room to sink down into the low couch, Isaac perches lightly on the armrest beside him, and Laurel resumes her sprawl across the heavy chair.

“So, Laurel,” Nathan says, tabbing open a can of ginger ale with a satisfying _pop_. “What brings you here?”

She shrugs. “Boring human stuff. Quest to find my long-lost big sister. How do you know Isaac?”

Isaac and Nathan glance at each other. Something subtle and complicated crosses Isaac’s face.

“It’s been a long time,” Nathan starts, and Laurel gets the sense he’s being careful with his words. “We met when I was still in school, getting my teaching degree.”

Laurel turns to Isaac. “And you were, what, earning your tenth bachelor’s and feeding at college parties? Teaching a totally non-suspicious class about vampires in literature and mythology?”

Nathan hides a smile, looking amused but also embarrassed for some reason. He and Laurel both watch Isaac stutter soundlessly a couple times before saying, “We met at a bar, actually.” A faint hint of color creeps onto their cheeks and ears.

It takes Laurel a moment, and then a gaping double take, before she asks with unrestrained enthusiasm, “Wait, are you guys banging?”

Nathan, giggling despite himself, murmurs an apology under his breath as Isaac flusters and sulks. “We’ve known each other a long time,” he repeats, laying a soothing hand on Isaac’s back.

Laurel observes this moment of private comfort. Questions soar through her head _(Are they in a relationship? Does anyone else know about it? When did Nathan learn about vampires? Is it taboo for a vampire to get involved with a live human? What if it’s someone they’ve just fed from? Does that count as playing with your food? Why hasn’t Isaac turned him?)_ , but she can see now that she’ll need a lighter touch here. With an internalized groan of reluctance, she tries to shoo away her racing thoughts.

“Hey, Laurel, how old are you?” Nathan asks suddenly.

“Huh?” She snaps back to attention. “Twenty-one.”

“Good. Do you mind if I smoke?”

Laurel doesn’t mean to be rude, but her nose involuntarily crinkles up at the thought of a cigarette cloud. To her relief, Nathan pulls out a small glass pipe and a faded ziplock, sets them down on the handsome leather trunk that seems to serve as a coffee table, and deftly packs a bowl of weed. He takes a modest hit, and Laurel perches more upright in her seat, hovering as one does when one isn’t sure if one is meant to be included. He holds it out to her invitingly.

She scrambles out of the armchair to take it with a sheepish ‘thanks,’ and re-settles herself on the carpeted floor. Then she clicks the lighter a couple times before successfully catching the flame, pulls too hard, and turns red as she hacks up smoke, making an ‘I’m okay’ gesture with one hand as she reaches up to hand the bowl and lighter to Isaac.

Isaac turns to Nathan with a pleading expression. Laurel misses it, but in the conversational lull she finishes coughing and says, “Wait, can you actually get high? As a vampire? I know how alcohol works, but that makes sense to me because you drink it. Is this different?”

Nathan takes the bowl from Laurel to pass to Isaac. “Just one, maybe? It might help.”

“You’re staying?” They ask, very softly.

“Well, I drove here, and I already hit this once, so you’re stuck with me until I sober up. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

Isaac hesitates, but nods and gives in to the suggestion. Laurel, coughing again, realizes she never actually filled her water bottle and excuses herself to the kitchen. She downs a full bottle, then refills. When she comes back, Nathan is striking the lighter again.

“It more or less works the same as alcohol,” Isaac says, and Laurel stares blankly until she realizes it’s an answer to her previous question. “Keep a steady diet, your tolerance will be something like when you were alive. Wait longer between feedings and it starts to drop. The difference maybe isn’t as pronounced.”

Laurel takes another hit — this time she’s prepared for the coughing fit — and extends the pipe toward Isaac again, who declines with a raised hand and a shake of their head.

“I’m good right now. One was plenty.” Demurely, they incline their head toward Nathan to admit, “You were right, I feel better. Thanks.”

“Awww,” Laurel coos, passing the bowl back to Nathan instead. He smiles, which he seems to do a lot, and hits it once more. Then Laurel says, “I’m good too, actually,” and flops down on her back on the carpet, so Nathan sets the pipe down on the table. He scoots over on the couch and pulls an unresisting Isaac from their perch on the narrow armrest to nestle into the cushions with him. They whine in performative protest and lean their head on his arm.

“I’m no good for anything now,” Isaac complains, testing their eyes’ focus on objects across the room.

“You’re good company,” Nathan says, offering Isaac his ginger ale. They make a grossed-out face and shake their head, so Nathan returns to the minifridge, then sits back down and hands Isaac a cold plastic bottle of water. They accept it, cracking the seal and taking small sips.

Laurel has been half-listening, torn between multi-leveled voyeuristic elation and the continued struggle to hold back her inappropriate questions. Her reaction is delayed. 

“Hey,” she says, slow and worried. “Is the tap water not okay here? Cause I’ve been drinking it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Nathan reassures her. “It’s kind of a vampire thing.” Laurel has indeed noticed that vampires always seem to have bottled water around, it just never struck her as odd because she’s not usually in their _homes_. “But also, the tap water here doesn’t get as cold as the fridge.” Nathan turns back to Isaac, who is holding their mostly-full bottle in both hands and shivering, and nudges their leg with his. “When are you going to eat?”

Laurel sits up.

“I’m fine,” Isaac protests, “I’m just — there’s just a lot going on right now.”

“Is that what you’re here for?” Laurel asks. Her question is directed at Nathan.  
Isaac eyes her, collecting themselves to answer before Nathan can.

“I really don’t like feeding.” Nowhere to go at this point but the blunt truth. Laurel visibly bites her tongue over what Isaac has a feeling would have been a comparative pop culture reference. “I don’t like that it’s something I have to do. Abstaining doesn’t kill us, but.” They gesture loosely at their state of being. “It makes us weak and vulnerable, and when that goes far enough, death can be as easy as getting caught in a sunbeam.” Nathan presses his knee against theirs, a small, steadying comfort. “I tried different ways of dealing with it, for a long time. But at this point, if I have to feed, which I do at least occasionally, I prefer to do so from people who are fully aware and willing.”

Laurel chooses her words carefully. “That seems pretty counter to all the other stuff I’ve heard from vampires.”

Isaac nods, and Laurel lets go of her held breath.

“It is.”

“So you’re...”

Her gaze drifts back to Nathan, healthy and some type of handsome and maybe going on forty, cuddled up with a younger-looking, maybe-fiftyish-maybe-ninetyish vampire on a very small sofa. He nods confirmation without looking away, but has the manners to look tense and unsure about it, if only a fraction as much as Isaac does.

“Huh.” Laurel thinks about it, drinking in the unusual tableau she’s stumbled upon. “Seems like a pretty good arrangement to me,” she says to Isaac, “as long as he’s cool with it.”

Nathan takes and releases a deep breath. Isaac doesn’t breathe at all.

“Hey, if you’re like, starving, you should eat. I can turn the other way, see.” She lies back down on the carpet, this time face down.

“I’m kind of private about it.”

The carpet muffles her, but she’s loud enough to overcome it. “Can I crash here?”

“I’ve got a guest room.”

“Oh.” Laurel inhales deeply, then heaves herself back upright with a dramatic groan. “That works too. That’d be great.”

“I’ll show her?” Nathan offers, and Isaac nods gratefully, leaning back into the corner of the sofa so he can stand. He leads Laurel up another impractically narrow staircase — they commiserate about the tight squeeze — to a small, nondescript room with a single small window and a nondescript bed. Its sheets look old enough to be vintage.

“Awesome,” Laurel says, wasting no time in resuming her horizontal state.

“Do you want me to bring your stuff up?” He asks.

“Nah, I’ll get it later,” she says, waving him away. “Thanks. You’re nice.”

Nathan smiles wide, at once flattered, amused, and impressed by Laurel’s moxie.

“If you need the bathroom, it’s back downstairs, door near the kitchen.”

She’s already starting to snore as he creaks his way back down. He’s not sure she heard him, but if she needs to, she’ll find her way.

-

When Laurel wakes up, the sky outside the little window is smeared dull red and wispy gold. She drags her phone out of her pocket to check the time. PM, not AM. Groaning at herself for her sleep pattern related choices, she scratches her head, yawns, and finds the stairs back down.

Her enormous backpack is leaned against the wall outside the bathroom. She digs out some clean clothes and her toothbrush and closes herself inside. She turns on the shower. One of the hanging towels, neatly folded, looks and smells clean, and she really doubts Isaac will mind her using the facilities. She’s only been here since this morning, and asleep for most of that, but she feels welcomed and remarkably settled; because she hasn’t experienced it in a while, it takes her most of the shower to realize that she feels at home here.

When she emerges back into the living room, Isaac is there. Alone on the couch, without Nathan’s bulk to fill it, they look very small.

“Where’d Nathan go?” She asks.

“Home. He has papers to grade.” At her look of confusion, Isaac beckons her over, and she joins them on the little sofa.

“He doesn’t stay with you?”

“It’s...” Isaac smiles and says, without irony or condescension, “Complicated.”

“You really love him, though.” It’s not a question. Laurel has spent years hitchhiking around the country, seeking out human-shaped predators too brutal to be condoned by nature, asking after someone who they would probably see as indistinguishable from any other piece of meat. She’s seen the full spectrum of vamp nastiness, and learned a lot about both vampires and humans. Real caring and affection have been a surprisingly rare sight.

“It’s not about vampire stuff, if that’s what you’re thinking. Nathan is not the only reason I couldn’t give two shits what most vampires think of me.” They gesture toward the makeshift table. Atop it sits what might be the same half-finished bowl from this morning. “He didn’t forget it. He leaves things on purpose.”

Laurel raises her eyebrows and reaches for the pipe. Isaac waves at her to go ahead. She figures sleep did her good, because she manages not to cough this time.

Isaac takes the bowl from her and lights it. They’re much more practiced than she is, taking a long draw, capping the billowing bowl with their palm, and then exhaling a dense, picture-perfect cloud of smoke. Laurel realizes that they seem healthier: a little more color under their skin, a steadier posture and presence.

“He tries to take care of me,” Isaac continues, their mood dour despite their renewed bodily state. “Sometimes it makes it harder. What do I have to offer someone with a career, a family, and his own built-in blood supply?”

“Clearly, there’s something,” Laurel answers. Isaac doesn’t say anything, just lifts their hand and watches a small burn on their palm fade away, which Laurel finds vaguely disturbing. “Did you eat before Nathan left? Are you good now?”

The blush that spreads across their face is an answer in itself, in a couple ways. They hand her the bowl.

“Cause, you know. If you’re still hungry.”

Isaac’s blush deepens, and Laurel can’t help breaking out in nervous giggles. Their expression of layered confusion is a work of art.

“That’s very forward of you?”

Laurel calms her giggles enough to keep smoking. “I mean, you know, you spend as much time as I have trying to figure out why some people are so obsessed with vampires. Real vampires. You get curious.” She shrugs aggressively. “But like hell am I gonna go to a feeding den. Except on business.”

Isaac nods deeply. “Good judgment. Better than most.”

“Low bar, but thanks.”

Now that they’ve gotten acclimated to her volume and enthusiasm, Laurel is growing on Isaac fast. It’s nice to have someone new to talk to — they’ve been lonely, aside from Nathan’s visits — and especially nice to get a rare dose of youthful energy.

Suddenly they remember why she’s here. “Hey, did you want to ask me about your sister? Figure out if I’ve seen her?”

“Eh,” Laurel says dismissively, pulling the bowl from her lips with a little trail of smoke. She exhales, rough and scratchy, then clears her throat. “No hurry. We got all night.”


End file.
